Cooking with Lin
by Vannen Shantel
Summary: Bou-san asks Lin for a favor. Maybe asking an Onmyouji for help wasn't the brightest of ideas. One-shot.


Lin Koujo stared at the man in front of him, not sure he had heard him correctly. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

Takigawa Housho didn't look up from where he knelt on the floor, head bowed in supplication. "Please teach me to cook."

Lin scowled a little harder. "Who informed you that I can cook?" he said.

"Mai," Bou-san said, still not daring to look up from his position, hoping against hope that the onmyouji would take pity on him.

Lin sighed. Mai. Of course. Invite a girl over for dinner one time and she feels it necessary to tell the entire office. It was a good thing she was cute or she'd be in trouble. "Why?" Lin asked, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache that was starting to grow.

Bou-san glanced up, hope on his face. "I want to treat Ayako to a special dinner," he said.

"Why don't you take her to a restaurant?" Lin asked.

Bou-san hesitated, ducking his head in embarrassment. Lin waited, unwilling to help without a good reason. "I'm going to ask her to marry me," Bou-san finally said, "and I want to be able to do things for her, to show her that I'm really serious about doing everything I can for her."

Lin didn't reply for a moment. Truth be told, he was somewhat impressed that the somewhat flighty Bou-san could be so considerate as to do something to increase his usefulness in a relationship. He was trying to decide what shocked him more: the fact that the monk had chosen to learn to cook or that he actually wanted to marry the temperamental miko.

"Please," Bou-san said as the silence stretched too long. "I'm begging you." He bowed in front of Lin again.

With a sigh, Lin said, "Fine. I'll meet you at your home after work this evening."

With a whoop, Bou-san thanked Lin before hightailing it out of his office.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Lin wondered aloud before returning to work.

* * *

That evening, Lin entered Bou-san's apartment. Lin stared around in resignation. "Takigawa-san, just because you _are_ a bachelor doesn't mean you have to _live_ like one." The apartment wasn't messy, but it definitely showed signs of only having a single male living there. Ignoring the décor, Lin entered the kitchen.

Here, the signs of a bachelor were extremely prevalent with the only food in sight being takeout containers and instant meals. "What equipment do you have?" Lin asked.

"Equipment?" Bou-san said.

"Knives, pots, pans?"

"Oh!" Bou-san bustled about the kitchen for a moment and pulled out three steak knives, a wok, an enamel pot that looked like it'd been bought in the '70's, and a battered kettle.

Lin waited for Bou-san to continue before he realized that this was it. He shook his head in dismay. "Pitiful," he said and picked up one of the steak knives. He tested the edge. It was extremely dull. "Paper and pen," he commanded. Bou-san provided the requested materials and Lin started writing. "Buy everything on the list," he ordered. "We'll start tomorrow." He turned to leave. "And Takigawa-san," he said, stopping by the door. Bou-san looked at him, "I suggest you consider making some changes to your home before you invite Matsuzaki-san over for a romantic dinner." He left without another word.

* * *

The next day, they started the lessons. Lin inspected the equipment before telling Bou-san what everything was used for. Then they set to work.

"What's with your finger?" Mai asked Bou-san the next day.

He looked at his hand, specifically the index finger. It was a bright blue color. "Lin-san," he said, glaring at the offending digit.

"Lin-san colored your finger blue?" Mai asked.

Bou-san sighed. "No, he spelled it blue." Mai stared in disbelief. "It's to remind me how to not hold a knife when I cook," he said. "He's teaching me to cook."

"Well at least it's just a blue finger," she said. "It could always be worse."

* * *

After a few days of learning the basics (how to use a knife properly, what pans were used for what, etc.) Lin started teaching, mostly by showing Bou-san how to cook something and then having the man make it himself. Their first lesson was a simple soup.

Bou-san felt he was doing well. It looked right at least and he was pretty sure he'd done just what Lin had said. He tasted the soup. It seemed right.

"OW!"

Sparks had jumped from the wooden spoon to his fingertips, making him drop it on the floor. He whipped his gaze over to the Onmyouji who stood a few feet away.

"Never stir with the spoon you just tasted with," Lin said.

* * *

The next night, Lin taught him how to make spaghetti. While apprehensive of making a foreign dish, Bou-san still gave it a try. The sauce went fine. The pasta however, came out stuck together.

"You forgot to stir the pasta," Lin-san said.

"I figured with how the water was boiling it would stir itself," Bou-san said.

"That obviously didn't work," Lin said. He looked at Bou-san's hand. A yellow spiral appeared there to go with his still blue finger (he'd placed his finger along the blade of the knife when he went to dice the onion, renewing the slowly fading color).

* * *

A few lessons later, Lin started showing him how to make sides. One of which was a salad. Bou-san, feeling confident in his chopping abilities by the time he got to the green onions, started chopping a little faster. Suddenly, his knife stopped against his will and wouldn't move. Looking down, he realized it had stopped a hair's breadth from his finger. Had he been able to continue the cut he'd been making, he would have sliced his finger at the very least or chopped off about a quarter of an inch of his fingertips. He swallowed.

"Thanks Lin-san," he said.

"Slow down," Lin said, "Make sure your fingers are out of the way before you continue."

Bou-san nodded and shifted his hand out from under the knife. As they passed the knife's edge, his fingertips turned a bright cherry red. Bou-san sighed.

* * *

Another lesson in Italian cooking had Bou-san making shrimp scampi. He thought he did everything right until they went to taste the final product. It was bland. Lin handed him a salt shaker. "You forgot to salt the pasta."

Bou-san sighed and went to set the salt down. The shaker stayed stuck to his hand. He turned to grouse at Lin and demand he remove the shaker but the sorcerer was already out the front door.

The salt shaker stayed stuck for three days. Bou-san had a hard time explaining to his band mates why he had to skip a practice.

* * *

Two days later, Bou-san cooked a nice curry. At least, it was supposed to be nice. Lin had only put about a teaspoon of cayenne pepper in the curry he made as a demonstration.

"That's not spicy enough," Bou-san thought, looking at the bottle of red spice. With a shrug, he added more, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

When Lin took his first bite of the curry, he paused momentarily before jumping up from the table and spitting the bite he'd had in his mouth into the sink. He returned to his seat, wolfed down a few bites of untainted rice, before finally finding the ability to speak. "You didn't taste this, did you?" he asked, wiping water from the corners of his eyes and trying to ignore the lingering heat in his mouth. He coughed a few times, eyes still streaming slightly.

"Uh… No?" Bou-san said.

Lin glared. "Take a bite," he ordered.

"I'm not sure I want to," Bou-san said. Lin glared his worst glare and Bou-san quickly shoved a bite into his mouth. Instantly, he understood Lin's reaction. He too ran to spit the mouthful out and then tried to cool the heat by eating plain rice. The heat barely diminished.

"Always taste your food before serving," Lin said. "I don't think you'll forget after this week." He stood to leave, giving the plate of far too hot curry one last glare and a withering look at Bou-san.

"You've spelled this to not go away, haven't you?"

Lin just smiled thinly and left. The heat lingered for days.

* * *

As Bou-san made more mistakes, more strange things seemed to happen to him, courtesy of the Onmyouji and his interesting powers. Finally, weeks of work, Lin deemed him ready to cook for Ayako and capable of continuing to cook and try new recipes on his own.

So, after enlisting Mai to help him redecorate his apartment (that shopping trip had gone a bit better than he'd anticipated but not by much) Bou-san treated Ayako to a lovely home cooked meal of grilled salmon, a light lemon garlic pasta, roasted vegetables, wine, and a delicious chocolate soufflé for dessert.

The next day, Bou-san and Ayako walked into the SPR office. Seeing the dopey grin on Bou-san's face, Mai squealed in delight and congratulated them before asking Ayako to tell her everything. Leaving the two girls, Bou-san went to Lin's office.

"Thanks again Lin-san," he said after being allowed into the room. "She loved dinner."

"Your welcome Takigawa-san," Lin said, not looking up from his work.

Bou-san hesitated before saying, "There's just one thing. Can you do something about this blue finger?"

Lin didn't even glance at him. "It'll go away when you stop holding your knives wrong."


End file.
